Nothing in Return
by Channel D
Summary: Tim and Abby take an afternoon off. It's an anniversary special to Tim, but will Abby understand? Can one's hopes reach too hig? One-shot. McAbby, of course.


**Nothing in Return**

**by channelD**

_written for_: the NFA _Fluff_ challenge

_rating_: K plus

_pairing_: McAbby

_- - - - -_

_disclaimer_: I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

It was a lovely Friday, and Tim and Abby had both arranged to take the afternoon off to enjoy the beautiful weather together, at Tim's suggestion. He hadn't added that it was an anniversary, for how could you celebrate an anniversary with someone with whom you no longer had romantic ties?

_Did we ever?_ Tim thought, fleetingly, and then declared to himself, _Yes, we did. It didn't last long, but it did happen._

Abby twirled her black, lacy parasol that kept off the sun, mostly. "Where is this mysterious new place that you want to go to?" she asked.

"Up 8th Street a bit," he said. "Across I Street, I think. Maybe H. You don't mind the walk?"

"Oh, no. The weather's fine." She smiled.

He relaxed a bit at the smile. Abby's moods were more mercurial than mercury was. With luck, her good mood would hold.

- - - - -

They crossed M Street and started up 8th, strolling past numerous shops and little restaurants. The street was alive with passersby on this pleasant day. _We'll get to the place I have in mind, and then after that…_ Tim didn't let his mind go that far. It might be too much to hope for.

"_Hey!"_ Abby yelled suddenly. "He stole that lady's bag!"

She was pointing, and although Tim hadn't seen the snatch, he took off after a running man. In half a block, he had closed the gap enough to be able to tackle the crook…almost. Tim missed, and went down on his face in the middle of the street, with cars horns honking around him. Tim, bruised and scraped, looked up in time to see the crook pull the cash out of the purse's billfold, and then run off with that, dumping the purse.

Getting to his feet, Tim picked up the purse and went back to the woman who accepted it with thanks, but there were tears in her eyes. _She probably lives paycheck to paycheck,_ Tim guessed. He reached into his own wallet and pulled out some bills which he pressed firmly into her hand. Despite her protests, he wouldn't take them back. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to catch the guy," he said, and turned with Abby to go on.

"We wouldn't be able to trace the guy, you know," Tim said to Abby.

"I saw. He was wearing gloves," she said, nodding. "Are you okay, McGee?"

"Oh, sure. Just a couple scratches."

"That was a very nice thing that you did; giving that poor lady money."

Tim blushed. "Come on; I think we're just a couple blocks away from the place."

- - - - -

Not far ahead, they found a boy sitting on a rickety stool, holding a sign: _Chocolate bars--$1. Benefit of Popkins Middle School._ A case of chocolate bars was at his feet, and the boy, about 11, looked sad. Business must not have been good.

Tim stopped before the boy. "How many bars are in a box? Twenty? I'll take a box, then. They look wonderful!" He smiled and gave the astonished boy $20, watching his eyes bug out.

"Wow! Thank you, Mister! You must really like chocolate!"

"Oh, I do," said Tim, tucking the box underneath his arm. Abby took his other arm as they walked. Tim touched her hand lightly. _I hope she likes this place we're going to. Maybe this was a stupid idea to bring her all the way out here, when she probably has other things she could be doing…_

Once well up into the next block, and out of sight of the boy, Tim opened the box and handed out chocolate bars to strangers: kids and adults alike. They went quickly, and with smiles. Tim then stuffed the empty cardboard box into a paper recycling bin, and he and Abby walked on.

"Almost there," Tim said.

"Well worth the walk!" Abby said cheerfully. Tim smiled at her tone.

- - - - -

At a corner, a destitute man sat on the sidewalk, his back against a mailbox. "Spare a quarter? Buddy, can you spare a quarter? I ain't eaten in two days."

His face had the ruddy look of one that has spent too much time up against a bottle, and was not well-known to a razor. His clothes were filthy and torn, and he wore too many of them for the mild weather. Tim knew that the man's statements likely weren't true; shelters would feed the man if he asked, and no doubt, any money that came his way would be spent on booze. Still, his father had always said that there was never harm in giving food to someone, so Tim decided to do something he'd seen his father do several times.

"Come on; I'll buy you dinner," Tim said to the man. "Do you need a hand in getting up?"

The man turned enormous eyes his way. "Just gimme a dollar for a cup of coffee, buddy, an' I'll be happy."

"No, you look like you could use a good meal. My treat."

Eagerly, the man got to his feet and held out his hand for the expected cash. Tim ignored that. "The place we're at here does good early bird dinners. Come on." To Abby he added, "I'll just be a minute." But she followed them in, intrigued.

"Hey, Joe!" Tim called to the small restaurant's owner. "Give my friend here a good meal, would you?" He took a $20 bill from his wallet. "No alcohol, though."

"You got it! What would you like, pal? Here's the menu…"

_Man, this is really cutting into our afternoon…I'm surprised Abby hasn't made some excuse to leave by now…_ "Sorry," Tim said as they stepped back outside. "We're really close, I think."

"I'm getting excited!" Abby said, giving her parasol another twirl. "This place we're going to must be really special!"

That brought Tim up short, and he stopped. "Abby, maybe I've built it up too much. It's just an ice cream shop where all the ice cream is homemade, and they have wonderful sundaes and ice cream sodas and all."

"So? I love ice cream, Timmy! You _know_ I do!"

He was embarrassed again. _I have always had trouble meeting her expectations. I like the ice cream there; but what if she doesn't?_ "Ah, there it is. See the red awning?"

- - - - -

The ice cream shop was tidy and sweet-smelling. Tim couldn't help smiling; on his first trip here two weeks ago, the banana ice cream gave him a died-and-gone-to-heaven feeling. Last week, it was the peppermint ice cream that did that.

"Oh my heavens; _look_ at all the flavors!" Abby said in delight, scanning the big board on the wall. "How will I ever choose? You think an ice soda is the way to go? Or maybe a float?"

Tim grinned, and opened his wallet. Then his face fell. All that was left in there was a ragged $5 bill. That wouldn't go far for the two of them in a trendy shop like this, where the ice cream sodas cost over $4.

"Timmy? What's the matter?" Abby peered at his face.

"Nothing. I ah, I just need to hit an ATM. There must be one nearby." He could feel his face flaming. _How could I be so stupid, not noticing that the money was evaporating like that?!?_

"Oh, Tim; you don't have to pay for my share, even though you invited me! I draw a salary too, you know."

"Yes, I do," Tim said, feeling even more downcast. "But I don't invite someone and then ask them to pay their way! I'm sorry. I screwed up. I just wanted…I just wanted everything to be…_nice_…today."

"Come here," Abby said, and guided him to a white-and-pink table. "Now sit. Tim, I wanted everything to be nice, too. I know what today is."

"You…you do?"

"'Course I do. Six years ago today, you drove up all the way from Norfolk to have a lunch date with me. It was our first date."

He blushed and ducked his head, smiling. "I didn't think you'd remember."

She only smiled, and looked up at the wall of flavors again. "You know, if we could agree on a flavor…My mother used to talk about going to the _malt shop_, as they called it, with her _beau_ (as they called it) and sharing an ice cream soda. One soda, two straws. She said it was pretty romantic. You want to try it?"

He brightened a little. "I guess so. You pick the flavor."

"Ummmmm…Mango fizz, then."

Tim didn't complain, but handed her his last $5. She got up and placed the order, and returned a few minutes later with the concoction in a tall, broad glass with two straws.

"You know, Timmy; for that first lunch date, you'd gotten a tat on your tush to impress me."

"I still have it," Tim laughed mildly.

"And I thought, then, _He's one hard-working guy to go to those lengths."_

"Didn't help, in the end, did it?" Tim said with a bitter laugh. "In the end, we still broke—"

She placed fingers over his lips. "Stop that. Maybe that was a bump in the road. I'm pretty sure now it was bad judgment."

"Abby, I'm still the same person you've known for six years." He fought back the tears; wiping them on his sleeve. _Why did I ever think I stood a chance…?_

"Maybe I hadn't put the puzzle together before now. You are a giver, Tim. You gave of yourself to impress me back then, which was fine. And fun. But you're more than that. Not once, not twice, but three times this afternoon, you've given of yourself to help others, expecting nothing in return." She scooted her chair next to his, and pulled him close to her. "And that's the most beautiful sentiment there is. Once we had something. Maybe we could try…?" She left the question open, and then sought his mouth, kissing him deeply and not daring to breathe until he returned the kiss.

"I'd like that," he said. The air glimmered with sweetness.

"Well, good," she said, with a smile and a nod. "We're on. But first, let's finish this soda before it melts."

-END-


End file.
